Mr Heming knows his business. One can already see from his living room wall. Since key hang unterschiedlichster colors, shapes and sizes. Every single part of a house or an apartment that has given the real estate agent, and everyone hangs like on a map of the city at the location of the property concerned.
His collection is not intended Mr Heming to her sometimes lovingly and look admiringly. He uses the objects intended. Oh no, he’s not a burglar.
His true hobby is to immerse unnoticed in the privacy of other people, their secrets to fathom.
Of course, no one suspects something is known in the small English town where William Heming as a serious businessman. That the discreet, gentle and friendly man with old-fashioned manners and dress habits of self-inhabited only a modest apartment, leads another life behind his honorable facade, as it seems to be carefully guarded secret remains.
In his. forays into other people’s life, he’s going pedantic and skilfully.
The matching key brings him. Then he rummaged through closets, open filing cabinets, inspected refrigerators, lies down on sofas (moments intensivster proximity to the absent residents), take pictures and video, nibbling here and there and likes to take small souvenir – a teaspoons, a sock – from his excursions , William Heming at home he notes in file folders, what he has gained in information and secrets.
The insight to act criminal, is far. He sees his time-consuming job as harmless hobby, they banked on the other as his “calling” (the original title ” A Pleasure and a Calling < ” Phil Hogan:”?.
A Pleasure and a Calling “on”.
If the black humor of the proven British style A satire exactly where the rub yet is to fecal punitive action, the reader accompanies the bizarre bustle of the protagonist with occasional smile, but with progressive action skepticism as cheerful Hemings had to take quirks growing. Thanks to its first-person narrator shaft we win in fragmentary flashbacks insight into his childhood and youth and in his formative years in the property business and found there the formative triggered a remarkable personality disorder. He is not verschrobenes innocent, and Phil Hogan commits himself not sure whether the sound of his narrative ers fun (as it may seem at first want) to do or think.
Phil Hogan writes columns for 25 years for the “Observer”. His novel (translated by Alexander Wagner into German) about Mr Heming is a kind of ambiguous detective story that does not scores with tension, but rather disturbed by an extremely dangerous man Biedermann in friendly conversational tone spreading its bitter history. The more he reveals about himself, the more dwindling hints of sympathy that we feel in the face of his hardships for him liked, and the more attacks discomfort around. In the end, we must admit to have been a skilled, trained for years manipulator on the glue.